Earth Goddess' Nectar: The Complete Novella: (Paranormal Fantasy Erotica) (3 page)

As his cum covered her nipples, he squeezed every last drop from himself then relaxed against her. Andrew spent the rest of the night comfortably submerged in the womb of the world.

Chapter Three: Little Soldiers

Nathan Thorne lay naked in the opulent canopy bed of his studio apartment, his knuckles coated with the hooker’s blood. The whore was on the floor beside the bed, her body bruised and her face unrecognizable. She whimpered softly as she gathered her clothes. He had called the agency and asked for his usual. Black hair, sharp bones, with a rake-thin body and dark eyes. He smiled to himself, wondering what Freud would make of his preference for the skinny ones.

Poor little Nathan wants to fuck his mommy. And then kill her.

Nathan rose from the bed and walked over to the dressing table. He regarded himself briefly in the mirror. Old scars traversed his torso and abdomen, their impressions the only imperfections on his flawlessly sculpted figure. He knew that plastic surgery could erase them completely, but what good would that do?

These wounds are like childhood friends you’ve carried for years. When you run your fingers along their fading edges, you read the secret history of your life. If you got rid of them, you would be killing a part of yourself.

He bent his head to a silver platter with five perfectly symmetrical lines of premium cocaine cut across its surface. He took a hit, the synapses in his brain singing as five little soldiers became four. He ran his hands through his greasy hair and clicked his jaw as the drugs performed their sacred magic in his bloodstream.

“M-mister…the m-m-money please…” The whore was finally dressed, and she cowered before him, wiping the blood and tears from her face. He felt a surge of sympathy for the girl, but he swallowed it down like bile and flinched with visceral disgust.
Don’t show the bitch weakness. She cannot fool you. Beneath her skin she is just like the cows being pumped at Laguna. A sack of disgusting fluids and lies. A woman.

“Mister? Are you sure that’s right?” Four little soldiers became three and he stared at her with his dead eyes.

“Is that how you speak to your father? Now ask me again and ask me right.”

She whimpered and swallowed loudly, her cracked lips parting painfully as she struggled to speak, “D-d-daddy. Puh-please give me my m-m-money d-daddy.”

Her obedience softened him, and he smiled as he extracted the notes from his wallet.

“Now, here’s a little bit extra, darling. I won’t have it be said that Nathan Thorne doesn’t take care of his children.” He held out the fat wad of hundreds, and as she took it, he wrapped his fingers around her birdlike wrist.

“Needless to say, Daddy won’t take it too kindly if you go running your sweet little mouth about this. Wouldn’t help you much neither. I’m on the board of trustees of this fine city’s police department, so you aren’t going to find too many sympathetic ears.” He let her go and she ran from the apartment, the money clutched in her wet little hands.

Three little soldiers became two and Nathan walked over to the window and opened it, allowing the noise of the city to wash over his electrified flesh. His heart was beating like a sledgehammer as he gazed over the city lights, and he felt his life-force tuned to the grey frequencies of urban chaos. Cold steel and reflective surfaces: the murmur of industry: the smog coating the night sky.

This is your world, the apotheosis of the thrusting masculine drive for domination. You are not a slave to milk and flesh and the messy menstruations of bloated women. You are a man, and you deserve to stand above the pinnacle of your creation and feel it talking back to you in its dissonant tongues.

Killing the old bag actually wasn’t that difficult. Nathan liked to consider himself a crime aficionado. He always loved true detective novels and serial killer stories, and he had often fantasized about committing the perfect murder. But up until the incident with his mother he had never killed anybody. Sure, he had hurt a bunch of girls. Some of them he hurt very badly, in ways that they would carry for the rest of their slatternly lives. However, the fear of capture and imprisonment always prevented him from crossing the red line, but the Bloodhound’s call had stiffened his resolve.

His mother had known about his sexual sadism for years, but it was only when she saw Belinda that she finally gave up on her son. Perhaps it was the close resemblance Esther shared with the battered girl that made up her mind. Perhaps it was the burn marks on her tits. Whatever it was, the Bloodhound had overheard her talking to one of the milk cows about severing Nathan from the business for good. He had been paying Desmond to inform on his mother for years, and his loyalty had not gone unrewarded. The news of his mother’s plans to disinherit him infuriated Nathan, and that fateful evening he went to her bedroom with hatred in his heart.

When Nathan arrived she was still with Agatha, the blonde cow she had taken a shine to in recent months. It was her habit to have the cows brought to her bedroom in casks of treated milk. There she would feed on their breasts like a disgusting old leech while the cows moaned and sang.

How could she do this to the memory of Father? The Old Sow Eshabaar had poisoned her mind with the filth of her womb and you had no other choice but to punish her.
Nathan waited for the cow to be carried away before he slipped inside and placed a cushion over his mother’s peaceful face. The bitch was stronger than he thought she would be, but after a few minutes of panicked groping, the life finally drained from her and her limp hands fell to the sticky bed sheets.

Nathan cried then, affecting a performance worthy of Broadway as Desmond called the medical staff and his spineless brother. He was still crying when Andrew walked into the room. Nathan could feel his brother’s eyes burning into his skin, and it was the only time he felt an instant’s shame about the deed. She bore them both after all, and he had loved his brother once when their father was still alive and the world was innocent.

He remembered playing catch and throwing footballs with Andrew and Father in the shadow of Laguna.

That was before the milk of the mountain and the unholy blasphemies his mother allowed into the Thorne household. When the bitch still listened to Father and Eshabaar was weak.
In that moment, Nathan would have given anything to have Andrew walk over and place a hand on his shaking shoulder. Instead, the coward had run for the comforts of his cows.

Nathan did not understand Andrew’s obsession with the big-titted whores.

Wasn’t he a man? Surely he saw the regression of his actions, the pathetic infantilism underpinning his desires?
Andrew wanted to continue serving Eshabaar, but there was no way Nathan was letting the arrangement continue. Even if it meant killing his brother and turning the Laguna compounds into a smoldering ruin.

That cunt has polluted your family for long enough. She is not the only divine force in the world. There are others that live in the darkness and wait for the chance to feed… And unlike the cows, these creatures are wise enough to do your bidding
. Two little soldiers became none as he picked up his phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Miyamori? It’s me. Listen, I need to speak to the old squelchy. Can you arrange a meeting?” 

As he waited for the details, he stared out at the sleepless city.

It’s time to get some more soldiers.

Chapter
Four: Eshabaar, Mother of Life

“Shhhh,” says Andrew with a finger pressed to his twelve year old lips. “Don’t make a sound, Nathan. If he catches us he’ll eat us up.”

Nathan whimpers beside him as they press their bodies tightly together beneath the bed. They are wearing matching blue sleeping shorts and nothing else, the night air prickling their bare skin. Nathan squirms against Andrew, his arm draped tight across his brother’s back and his face contorted by fear of the wet thing hunting them in the rambling old house.

The room is dark and silent, but they can hear the clamor of the summer storm raging outside. It would be better out there, thinks Andrew as he places a hand over his brother’s crying mouth. Even if they were naked, shivering, and running lost through the windswept fields. Sometimes being lost is better than being found…

From somewhere inside they hear the monster’s slobbery breath and the sucking sound it makes as it moves its repulsive body.

“I’m scared, Andy,” whispers Nathan as he crawls backwards away from Andrew’s shielding hand. He rasps, “I don’t want to be eaten!”

“Don’t be scared, Nathan, just stop…” A nauseating squelch interrupts him, and the air is suddenly rank with a terrible odor of sweat and decay. He cannot see it but it smells old, and Andrew can hear its stomach rumbling as it wheezes and splutters before the bed. It is hungry, and the only thing that can quell its ancient craving is the sweet meat wrapped around their shaking bones…

Nathan screams and reaches out desperately for Andrew as the monster pulls him from under the bed. Andrew opens his mouth to call for help and all that comes out is a torrent of sour milk mixed with hot blood…

Andrew woke with a start, his head still clouded by the fading vapors of the nightmare. For a second, he thought he was still in his childhood bedroom watching Nathan get swallowed by that unspeakable creature. Relief washed over him like Mother’s Milk as he heard the reassuring patter of Thaddeus’s fingertips, and he realized he was lying in a cramped cot in the milking parlor’s observation room.

Andrew lifted his head groggily and reproached himself for his childlike terror. He often had vivid dreams after ingesting large quantities of the milk, and the way he fed yesterday, he thought he would suck Ramona’s tit dry. Still, he was unnerved by the sinister remnants left floating in his skull.

The milk, the blood and the shuffling beast. Nathan slipping from his outstretched hands. The bedroom in Thorne Manor that they had shared as children.

Their childhood home was a grand country estate within walking distance of the Laguna compound. It was built when his mother first began to seek the earth mother in the early nineties, and it was there his father Eliot shot himself through the temple in the seclusion of his study. Andrew spent little time there now, dividing his days between a city apartment and his cocooned existence with the Sacred Sisters. But we are never at a place like we are when we are children, and he still treasured the fragments of that forgotten life. Nathan changed so much during his teenage rebellions, and the memories of their shared youth at Thorne Manor were Andrew’s only tangible connection to the brother he once loved. That is why the dream left such a bitter aftertaste, the slimy intruder in the dark devouring not only his brother but also his past.

Thaddeus was hunched over a keyboard in the corner of the room, streams of data reflected in his oversize spectacles. The skinny young scientist was charged with regulating the milk bath and maintaining the robotic tentacles that tended the Sacred Sisters. He had been with them for five years, and Andrew had yet to see him leave the holy confines of Eshabaar’s milk parlor. He was just as obsessed with the surrogate mothers as Andrew was, but unlike Andrew, his motivations were not eroticized. His relationship with the Sisters was almost maternal in its fastidious devotion, and Andrew often heard Thaddeus singing them nursery rhymes in a surprisingly sweet falsetto uninflected by raw carnality.

His shaved head turned when he heard Andrew stirring from the cot.

“Sleep well?” The bulbous lenses of his spectacles made his eyes appear cartoonish in his boyish face. A matchstick jutted from between his teeth as he passed Andrew a flask of strong coffee.

“No bad dreams I hope.”

“How did I get here?” Andrew swigged, the hot liquid invigorating his exhausted frame. He noticed he was dressed in unfamiliar yellow pajamas emblazoned with colorful dinosaurs, the material tight against his chest.

“And what the fuck am I wearing?”

“Those are mine. I know they’re a bit of a squeeze, but I couldn’t have you sleeping up here with your junk hanging out. I fished you out this morning after you were finished with Ramona.” Thaddeus looked at his shoes as he carefully weighed his next words, “You must be careful boss. Their milk is growing stronger each day. One day you could…”

“How many times must I tell you not to call me that? It makes me feel like a dandified slave owner.”

“Fancy that. Anyway, just consider it a friendly warning from one pervert to another.” Thaddeus glanced back at the endless strings of code, “Speaking of slaves, my girls are getting restless. Eshabaar must be close.”

Andrew quickly wiped his mouth and made for the stairway that led down to the lagoon. Thaddeus started to protest, “Whoa, calm down lover-man! I’m not sure how safe it is down there, their hormone levels are off the charts.”

Andrew turned to him and laughed as he tore off the ghastly pajamas.

“Consider it quality control. The milk is always richer when she’s here. And unlike you, I have a sweet tooth.” Naked, Andrew made his descent to the shimmering milk as Thaddeus wearily shook his shiny head.

The suction cups that fed Mother’s Milk into the processing labs were disconnected. The proximity of the earth mother increased the quantity of their lactation so greatly that they had to halt production lest they destroy the milking equipment. Milk spurted uncontrollably from the Sisters’ nipples in every direction, shrouding the earth mother’s womb in a fine white mist that concealed the cavorting surrogates. Geysers of gushing milk splashed against the walls and sprayed Andrew’s face, and he was already hard when his toes touched the warm liquid and he slipped through the milky veil.

The pool was a seething confusion of ripe breasts and thrashing limbs. The frothing milk rippled across the Sisters’ bubble bellies as they frantically licked and sucked each other’s bloated tits like starving children. They formed a rough circle in the center of the milk bath, their arms and legs haphazardly interwoven as the milk surged around them in growing waves.

Their bodies heaved together like a single organism covered with dribbling tits and faces twisted in paroxysms of slowly building pleasure. They honor the earth mother by showing the irreducible oneness of the magical feminine. Eshabaar is the mother of all, and they conjoin their bodies into one flesh to worship the glory of her all-encompassing womb.

For a minute Andrew struggled to distinguish any details in the mass of adoring Sisters, but as his eyes accustomed to the dizzying profusion of tender pregnant skin, he began to discern brief tantalizing flashes.

Olivia leaned to her left and grinded Trisha’s nipple between her teeth, her fingers brushing the light-red stretch marks fanning the chestnut-haired Sister’s enormous belly.

Lexi was a pale Sister with spiky black hair they captured outside a punk club in the city. She held an older Sister’s breast in her clawing hands and aimed the jets of milk into her mouth, thin strands of spit and milk dangling from her multiple lip piercings.

The Asian Sister who spoke no English squealed incomprehensibly as a trio of impish Sisters broke from the circle and crawled over her body with flicking tongues. Two fed from her tits while a third licked milk from her sunken navel and dragged her fingernails across the slick orb of her belly.

Even Agatha joined in the frenzy, her extended mourning for Esther forgotten as she burrowed her fingers into the doughy flesh of a brown-haired Sister’s buttocks while the Sister slurped on her glistening tits. Milky hands lovingly caressed puffy stomachs as the Sisters doused each other in Mother’s Milk and celebrated their fattened bellies. That is where they house Eshabaar’s sacred children. Their reproductive systems are enslaved to the earth mother, and their rounded bellies are divine proof of the lifeblood’s power.

Andrew saw Ramona and waded carefully out to meet her. Vortices were spinning furiously in the milk bath as volcanic bursts of Mother’s Milk erupted from the Sister’s dark nipples. He maneuvered gingerly to Ramona’s side, his fingers interlocking with hers as the redheaded Sister presented her cunt to a young surrogate with sparrows tattooed between her shoulder blades. Ramona turned to him and smiled distractedly.

“Andy, we have to stop meeting like this. People will say we’re in lo- ahhhh!” She was interrupted when the younger girl began to pull her pointed nipple across her enlarged clit, a stream of Mother’s Milk pulsing against the engorged bud and sending Ramona into rapture.

A flickering blue light at the back of the tunnel leading into the mountain announced Eshabaar’s arrival. Milk was spraying everywhere as the light grew brighter and the milk bath began to bubble. Andrew took Ramona’s closest breast in his hand and pressed his turgid prick against the base of her spine.

You need the milk now, to feel the earth mother’s womb on the tip of your tongue.
You need to forget Nathan and his faraway eyes. You need to forget the beautiful journalist with perfect breasts who chews her golden hair. Eshabaar is here.
However, the Sisters promptly halted their orgy and Ramona released his hand. Her arms rose above her head and her fingers interlocked with the Sisters on either side of her. The circle of bodies lifted on the back of a milky wave, the streams from their nipples meeting in a massive fountain that obscured the cave’s sparkling blue mouth.

“Eshabaar, mother of life. Eshabaar, mother of life.” The chant spread and swelled, and the lagoon started to shake from the deafening roar of the earth mother’s heralds. Eshabaar levitated into the room through the raging milk, her snow-white body dripping in the shining light that emanated from the blue choker around her pale neck.

This was the first time Andrew had seen Eshabaar since his mother’s passing, and she looked just as spectacular as she always did. Her long white hair fell beneath her tapering feet and her silvery eyes stared unblinking at her surrogates. She smiled slightly, running her spindly fingers over her exquisite curves. Her extravagant breasts were emphasized by a sheer, skintight black dress composed of interlaced webbing that crisscrossed her tits and cut into the soft flesh.

She raised a finger for silence and the hubbub ceased instantly. The surging fountain of Mother’s Milk continued to flow as Eshabaar outstretched her luminous arms above her expectant devotees.

“Sacred Sisters, you please me greatly. Behold Eshabaar, mother of the earth and queen of the mountain’s womb, and allow me to return the favor.” With that she ripped open the front of her lattice dress and the surrogates sighed in breathless unison.

Her tits were huge and gorgeously shaped, the dark brown whorls of her areolae contrasting sharply with the translucent tint of her skin. Tiny bones pierced her nipples horizontally, the calcium ornaments carved into the likeness of open mouths. Thin streams of milk trickled lazily from her nipples and cascaded down her flat stomach. They caressed the raised arches of her ribs before meeting at her groin and drenching her snowy pubic hair.

Andrew prepared himself for the coming deluge. He wrapped his hand around his cock beneath the lake’s unstable surface, his fingers clenching the tightening shaft. The
downpour is upon us.

She spread her legs and took her drooping tits in her thin fingers. She muttered an unintelligible incantation and milk poured from the slit between her alabaster thighs. Her fingers began to massage her heavy breasts from the smooth swells at the base to the tips of her springy nipples. As she milked herself she began to lactate, and the speed of her squeezing fingers increased until Andrew could see nothing but an indistinct blur behind the generous streams of breast milk. The inundations from her swollen nipples joined the flood that sprayed from the parted lips of her cunt, and the Sisters writhed in ecstasy as they bathed in Eshabaar’s hallowed juices. The circle was broken and the orgy escalated at a rabid rate.

Andrew covered his hand in the Mother’s Milk, bucketing from Ramona’s tit and used it to lubricate his prick. His skin thrummed and his eyes glassed over as he thrust himself into Lexi, his tumescent cock swallowed all the way down to the aching base. He fed on the punk Sister’s tattooed breasts as his hands scrabbled desperately for Ramona’s weeping tits behind him. Eshabaar’s milk splashed on the top of his head as his lips pumped furiously on Lexi’s nipple, his hands massaging Ramona’s bulging stomach.

Then Eshabaar descended, and Andrew forgot everything as the earth mother slipped into the simmering womb. The milk intensified and coursed through his veins, usurping his very blood. There was no Andrew anymore, nor were there Sisters with names and faces and private histories. There was only the sweet milk and the joy of dissolving into Eshabaar’s enfolding skin.

Afterwards, Eshabaar picked Andrew up in her arms like an injured bird and carried him to the edge of the lake. She lay him down tenderly and wiped a strand of black hair from across his rolling eyes.